


Rescue from Interrogation

by MajeSix



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25952944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajeSix/pseuds/MajeSix
Summary: Volgin finds Raikov in the aftermath of his capture by an unnamed enemy.
Relationships: Ivan Raidenovitch Raikov/Yevgeny Borisovitch Volgin
Kudos: 16





	Rescue from Interrogation

**Author's Note:**

> written for a friend of mine, we were DM'ing and spitballing little ideas. short sketch.

The prison floor was empty by the time Volgin stormed through its empty halls, banging echoing clashes of metal on metal as he threw open door after door in a fury. The bodies on the floor were cold, the barrels of his underling’s rifles hung loose as they followed close behind, answering his fury with obedient searches, tearing furniture open, throwing debris into the air, brutishly ripping apart the pockets of dead secretaries and interrogators. Electricity crackled in the air as Volgin threw another fist, bending metal to an indent, crackling fury against the smell of cold, the bitter taste of bloody iron.

On a concrete floor another door banged open off its hinges. it hung limply, half attached on a rusted pivot, crumpled around a deep crease where Volgin had punched it open.

Light spilled from the hallway as he adjusted his gaze over the room. He nearly fell over himself, dropping to his knees as he found it against the wall across from him.

Raikov still wore his uniform, torn open at the front of the jacket and shirt, abrased by knifewounds. His boots were missing, his pants stained deeply an unmistakable red. Volgin lost sight of himself, reacting unconsciously as he tenderly reached a hand to the sharp chin of his… he could only bring himself to contemplate it, still too proud to say it out loud, but the admission sinking into himself internally as he saw the meaning the boy’s broken figure struck in him. His white hair had turned grey with filth, his head hung limp and tired.

“A-are you…?” Raikov couldn’t bring himself to speak further, a thin trickle of blood down the corner of his lip.

“Ivan…” Volgin let the name sit on his lips, pulling him into an embrace, letting the arms of his thick overcoat stain red in his spattered blood as he held tight the emaciated and bloodied body of his lover. Raikov made only faint whimpers, as if begging for this not to be an illusion. Two of Volgin’s men stepped into the room, ready to undo the chains. They waited to do so, unable to break their embrace of reunion so soon.


End file.
